cooking with craft beer

On the way to making quick chicken tacos I decided to make a burger. One that takes a couple of hours, one that I decided to call a sandwich instead because I felt like it. One that I decided to spice up with jalapenos. Because things that take a few hours need to be made. There’s a feeling of accomplishment, of unguarded control, a way to push back against the restraint of the rest of your life, the parts that you can’t govern as you want.

But you deserve a little control, a little bit of your life that you have total say over. A little bit of something that goes right, and no one is pushing you around, or taking advantage of you, a space where your work doesn’t go unnoticed. No matter what great things you’ve done this week, and I know there have been plenty, you won’t be getting a parade. Or a Congratulations card. Or even a confetti shower when you walk in the door. But you should, because I’m sure you’ve done something to deserve those things. But with these, all that hard work won’t go unnoticed. You might not get a piñata and a present, but you will get some delicious sandwiches. Even though I’m sure you deserve much more.

Sprinkle the salt on all sides of the short ribs. In a small bowl stir together the flour, chili powder, black pepper, garlic powder, cumin and brown sugar. Sprinkle the ribs on all sides with the flour mixture.

Heat the olive oil in a large pot or Dutch oven. Add the short ribs, browning on all sides.

Add the broth and beer, bring to a low simmer. Add the lid at a vent, cooking until short ribs are tender and falling off the bone, about 2 ½ hours, remove from heat. Using two forks, shred while still in the pot. Allow to sit in braising liquid for ten minutes, remove from braising liquid.

In a pan over medium high heat, melt the butter. Add the jalapenos, cook until softened. Sprinkle with flour and cornstarch, whisk until well combined, allow to cook until a light brown color.

Add the beer and the milk, bring to a low simmer. About ¼ cup at a time, whisk in the cheese, making sure all cheese is melted before adding more. Keep warm while you make the burgers (sauce will thicken as it cools, add additional milk or beer and add to heat if the sauce thickens too much).

I was once friends with a man who was 100 years old. We had a bit of an unlikely friendship, since he had reached retirement age long before I was even born. He was smart, funny, and seems to have no concept of the age gap.

Life was a constant opportunity to make people laugh, and he took full advantage of it.

When he moved to Los Angeles in the 1940’s to get his pneumonia stricken daughters out of the frigid East Coast winters, he was without money, without a job, and without an education. He walked in to a Taxi company headquarters and asked for a job. He had a fantastic driving record and a winning smile, in his book, that’s the only resume he needed. As soon as the hiring manager found out that he had only lived on the West Coast of a week, knew nothing about Los Angeles freeways, and had never driven a cab, he shut down the interview.

“If you don’t know how to get from LAX to the Roosevelt Hotel, how are you going to get the client there??”

Jack responded with this famous smile, “Well if you don’t give me the cab, it’s gonna take a whole lot longer!”

He got the job.

Jack worked as a cab driver, running tourist from the Airport to Hollywood for over 30 years. He was also the very first Employee of the Month for the cab company, and to date, the recipient of the most complimentary letters ever sent to the cab company about any one of their employees.

As I sat with him only a few months before his 101’s birthday, eating biscuits that his nurse had made us, I asked him if he had any regrets.

“Not really. The secret to living 100 years old and not regretting anything is this: Do your best. Don’t hurt anyone. Make friends with anyone who will let you.”

When my job moved me farther from his apartment in the valley, I wasn’t able to visit as often as I used to so I wrote letters, postmarked from my Santa Monica office. One day I got a return letter, addressed to me with flowery handwriting. It was from his 76 year old daughter:

“Jackie,

I’m not sure what it was that formed a friendship between you and my Dad, but I wanted you to know how much he valued you. Your visits brightened his day, even his week. If there was a highlight from his last decade of life, it was the time he spent with you. He spoke of you often, and although my sister and I were at first skeptical of a friendship between him and a girl in her 20’s, it quickly became clear that there was a special bond between you two. I’m so sorry to tell you that he passed away, just a week shy of his 101’s birthday. I do want you to know that we appreciate the time you spent with him in his last year. Thank you.”

I cried. And ate biscuits in his honor, his favorite breakfast. To this day, “Do your best. Don’t hurt anyone. Make friends with anyone who will let you” is some of best advice I’ve gotten.

Pulse to combine. Add the cold butter, process until well combined. Add to a large bowl.

Add the buttermilk and beer. Mix with a fork until just combined.

Add to a well-floured flat surface, pat into a rectangle. Using a cold rolling pin (preferably marble) gently roll into a large rectangle, about 1 inch in thickness, using as few strokes as possible.

Fold the dough into thirds as you would a letter about to go into an envelope. Roll lightly, once in each direction to about 1 inch thickness, fold in thirds again. Gently roll into about 1 1/2 inch thickness (this will give you the flakey layers).

Using a biscuit cutter cut out 6 to 8 biscuits. Place in a baking pan that has been sprayed with cooking spray.

Brush biscuits with melted butter, sprinkle salt.

Bake at 425 for 10 to 12 minutes or until the tops are golden brown.

While the biscuits bake, make the gravy.

Melt the butter in a sauce pan over medium high heat.

Sprinkle the chicken thighs with salt and pepper. Sear on each side until golden brown, remove from the pan, chop (they do not need to be cooked through).

Add the onions, cook until softened, about five minutes. Add the mushrooms, cook until mushrooms are dark brown and soft.

Sprinkle with flour, cook until the flour has turned brown, about 2 minutes.

Add the beef stock and stout. Simmer until thickened. Add the chicken cubes back into the pan, simmer until cooked through.

I’ve never really been the girl with the sweet tooth. I’ve had a meat tooth. A salt tooth. A beer tooth. I could eat my weight in guacamole or tater tots and it takes a small act of God to get me to stop eating sushi. But sweets don’t give me the mad rabid cravings that get me to lose my mind. I love chocolate, and pie and cake, and I’ll always eat dessert if it’s around. I’ll take a small slice of every single pie at the Thanksgiving table, but those late night cravings that come after a few IPA’s are almost always of the salty variety.

But every once in a while something will hit the right note. Like this toffee that I ate the entire batch of before I could share and then lied and said it fell on the ground when really it just fell into my mouth. The perfect combination of sweet and salty will get me every time. A little sea salt sprinkle on a danish before it’s baked, or salted caramel, or candied bacon, it’s hard for me to really fall in love with a dessert that doesn’t kick me some salt. Which is why pretzels seem to make it into my desserts more often than fruit does. Maybe you like this too, after all, chocolate and pretzels go perfectly with beer.

Of course we have those pumpkin spice lattes that the weather is far too warm to warrant, and the overly orange plastic pumpkins that Target is trying to push on us, but it’s the beer that gets me most excited. It can be a triple digit August afternoon when a package of pumpkin porter arrives and I’ll still break into it as soon as I can open the box.

As early as July those hotly anticipated squash infused brews start to hit bottle shops and brew pubs across the land. From a pale lager to a deep stout, every style of beer has had a tryst with a pumpkin. Every brewer has a different take. Some like to spice it up, others favor a drinkable pumpkin pie, while some want the flavor to be a subtle background note you should have to work at identifying. Whatever you prefer when it comes to this super special release category, there is a beer that will suit your mood.

A box of He Said Baltic Porter brewed with pumpkin and spice arrived on my door step last week reminding me that the days of driving with the windows down and eating ice cream outdoors are rapidly coming to a close. So I did what any rational person would do: I made brownies. But, somehow, that didn’t seem like enough. So I made a pumpkin porter infused chocolate sauce and added in the more weather appropriate giant scoop of cold ice cream. Which makes this the perfect transitional recipe from the heat wave afternoons to the fireside evenings. It’s both pumpkin and ice cream, regardless of the weather in your town, this recipe fits.

Porters are a great vehicle for the flavors of pumpkin. The deep earthiness is delivered well with the roast notes of the darker beers and this beer is no exception. The flavors of pumpkin in He Said are perfectly mild in a way that I prefer, these beers can often be treated heavy handed. This Baltic porter delivers the flavors of pumpkin and spice without molesting you with them, it’s more seductive. It’s a deep, smooth porter that draws you in. And, apparently, makes you bake things. Or maybe that’s just me.

Preheat the oven to 400. In the top of a double boiler, or metal bowl set over (but not touching) gently simmering water, add the butter and the chocolate. Stir occasionally until just melted. Remove from heat, stir in 1 cup pumpkin porter and vanilla extract.

In the bowl of a stand mixer beat the eggs on high until light and frothy, about 2 minutes. Add both kinds of sugar and beat for 6 full minutes. Add the pumpkin puree, stir until combined.

In a separate bowl add the flour, cinnamon, espresso powder, salt and cocoa powder, whisk until well combined.

While the mixer is on low, add the chocolate mixture to the eggs. Mix until well incorporated, stopping to scrape the bottom of the bowl to insure the batter is fully combined.

Remove the bowl from the stand mixer, sprinkle with dry ingredients. Stir until just combined.

Place in the oven and immediately reduce to 350. Bake at 350 for 35 minutes. The top should look completely dry but the center should still be fudgy. Don’t over bake. Remove from oven and allow to cool until set and come to room temperature before attempting to cut, about 1 hour.

Add the dark chocolate, corn syrup, and 1/3 cup pumpkin porter to the top of a double boiler over medium heat.

Stir until melted and well combined, remove from heat, pour over ice cream.

If you’re going to make me a salad, it better be a damn good salad. After all, you’re asking me to skip carbs and satisfying fried finger foods, I might resent you if it isn’t a really good salad.

Bacon is a good start, and so is beer. Scallops are a fan favorite as well. Let’s talk about those for a second while we’re at it. Scallops will most likely come to you via a grocery store seafood counter soaking in a milky phosphate solution (yum!) that will help keep it fresh longer as well as give it an unfortunate soapy taste and an inability to sear properly. The solution to this is beer. Well, more accurately, a brine. Soaking the scallops in a brine will flush out that unappetizing liquid and give you a great taste and a great sear. Which will help that salad taste amazing. And make people forget all about the missing french fries.

But there is beer and bacon and perfect scallops, so no one should complain. If they do, take away their beer.

In a large bowl stir together the pale ale, salt, water and lemon juice.

Add the scallops, cover and refrigerate for 1 hour.

Remove the scallops from fridge and place on top of a stack of 4-5 paper towels. Add another layer of paper towels and allow to drain and dry for 15 minutes. Sprinkle with pepper on both sides.

Cook the bacon in a pan over medium high heat until cooked through, remove from pan, chop and set aside. Add the shallots to the bacon grease, cook until shallots have softened, about 5 minutes. Add the stout beer, scraping to deglaze the pan. Add the mustard, honey and pepper, whisking to combine. Slowly whisk in the olive oil, stirring until thickened. Remove from heat.

Melt the butter in a skillet over medium high heat until very hot. Add the scallops, flat side down, and allow to cook until a dark golden brown crust forms on the bottom, about 2 minutes. Flip and cook until seared on the opposite side. Remove from pan when a slight hint of translucent pink still remains at the center, don’t over cook.

Trim asparagus, cut into 2 inch pieces. Cook the asparagus in lightly salted boiling water for one minute, drain and allow to dry.

Plate the spinach, top with asparagus, goat cheese, and crumbled bacon, dizzle with dressing, top with scallops.

It’s seems a cruel twist of fate that beer-drinking-burgers-dogs-dips-eating season and bikini season line up perfectly. The same time that we load our paper plates with baked beans, slow roasted ribs, chips and creamy dips, is the same part of the year that we shed our clothes and romp in the sunshine in our bikini clad bodies.

I’m a strong advocate for both summer time gluttony and semi-nude public frolicking, I refuse to chose between the two. Although I’m also an advocate for flaunting your post-lunch glow in all it’s splendor, not everyone is quite so brave.

So here we are, bikini/beer/barbecue season in full swing and here I am as the least diet friendly blogger in all of Blogland. Yet, I’m still a girl. A girl who loves beer, has a large collection black bikinis, and not a lot of modesty. I’m trying to find some balance.

Here is my entry for Healthy Appetizer For A Back Yard Party. Although there isn’t a way to strongly argue that beer is healthy, as a replacement for the butter I would normally use to caramelize onions, it’s much lower calories and gives you a great flavor.

Plus you get to say that the healthy dips has beer in it, which is a win.

Place garlic on a sheet of tin foil, drizzle with 1 tsp olive oil. Fold foil tightly around garlic.

Bake at 425 until garlic head is soft, about 30 minutes. Remove from oven, allow to cool.

In a saucepan over medium heat, add the remaining oil and the onions. Cook until onions have started to soften. Add ¼ cup porter beer, cook over medium/low heat until beer has reduced and pan looks dry, about 20 minutes. Repeat with the remaining ¼ cup porter beer.

Once the onions are a dark amber color and pan looks dry, remove from heat.

Add the Greek yogurt, Worcestershire sauce, salt, pepper and onions to a food processor. Gently squeeze the garlic until the soft cloves protrude. Add the cloves to the food processor, discard the rest of the head. Process until smooth.

Chill until ready to serve (dip has the best flavor the day after it’s made).

Beer and fruit have a bit of a sordid past. From the ill-advised orange slice served on the side of a hefeweizen, to the cringe inducing Bud Light Lime. Thankfully, plenty of remarkable unions have a sordid pasts. Beer and fruit just needed a few takes to get it right. The current state of beer and fruit, in the hands of remarkable brewers, is exciting.

Craft brewers have pushed the limits of what these two can do, bringing us remarkable examples like Festina Peche from Dogfish Head, and Orange Wheat from Hangar 24. Those brilliant brewers make beer with watermelon, cherries, marionberries, and pretty much everything else they can get their hands on.

It’s evidence of what beer can do, what it’s capable of. Think for a second of the first beer you ever tasted, probably a pale lager poured from a keg out of the back of a pick-up truck. The flavors in that beer were small, a ground floor offering, a beer made to vaguely satiate the masses. Craft beer being made now is being made to get people excited, make us think. Love it or hate it, it’s beer you remember.

It’s why beer and food go so well together. It’s the only alcoholic beverage that’s made with just about any ingredient in that meal on your plate. It was only a matter of time, and dozens of brilliant brewers, before beer and fruit started to make sense. And that was only the begining. You should see what those brewers do with chai, and chocolate, and carrots, and everything else you can throw at them.

Let’s say you and I get into it over pizza. We hash it out over the best pizza we’ve ever had. We talk about Naples, and LA, and both agree that New York beats Chicago, unless you want a casserole, then Chicago pizza will do.

And then I tell you that the best Ray’s pizza in New York is the one at 4th and Houston, to which (if you’re a New Yorker) you recoiler in horror that I’ve chosen said Ray’s instead of one of the 147 other Ray’s in Manhattan.

We finally just agree to get a beer and pizza and call it a day. Nowhere in our spirited conversation do we mention Seattle. Because the thing about Seattle is that beer is world class, so is the coffee and the produce can’t be beat, but the pizza…

We’ll just talk about the beer and the coffee and the produce and leave talk of the pizza out of it shall we? Similar to a discussion of the best people in the world named Joe wouldn’t include talk of either Buttafuoco or Francis. Let’s just stick to the good stuff.

Of course I have a theory about this. The same water that makes the beer fantastic and coffee legendary isn’t so kind with the pizza dough. But here is the thing about baking your pizza dough with beer, wherever you go in the world, your dough will be the same.

Water is for the weak, switch to beer and your pizza dough will become the stuff of folklore.

Oil the grill (alternately, you can oil the flatbreads). Grill one side of the flatbread until grill marks appear, about 2 minutes, flip and very lightly grill the other side, about 30 seconds, remove from grill. Place the flatbreads on a flat surface with the well grilled side facing up. Top with barbeque sauce, cheese, chicken, sliced apricots, cilantro, and onions. Place back on the grill, close over, cook until cheese has melted.

A few years ago I was in Spain, I’d missed my flight out of Madrid because of an ill-timed visit to the Prado, some churros, and a bullfighting poster and I was stuck for an indefinite amount of time. I wanted some comfort food.

I wanted something familiar to help me deal with the fact that I was stuck half way across the world, dealing with an airline that was refusing to help, and all the budget hotels and hostels were sold out for the night. So I went to McDonald’s.

I was in one of the most culinary rich countries in the world and I went right past all those great markets and family run cafes right to the American capital of sub-mediocre food to order a milkshake and some french fries.

And it worked. It was bland, and salty and creamy and reminded me of my processed food childhood and made me feel like everything was going to be OK. I’m not proud of myself, I could have had cured meats and cheese and fresh bread.

It’s enough to be a meal all on it’s own, especially when you eat 4 of them, with a beer and some honey butter, but you miss the rest. You miss the ribs, and the greens, and the coleslaw and the mac n cheese and the fried chicken. You miss all those things that cornbread always sits beside on the plate. Maybe it’s just that cornbread is a social food, it just goes with everything. Or maybe it’s because your cornbread memories are accompanied by other comforting good-time food.

I was once invited to leave The Viper Room when the guy I’d been chatting with escalated past douche bag right up into unignorably obnoxious territory and I was swept up in his wake.

I not so subtly parted ways with him to cross the street towards The Roxy when he escalated further,”You’re leaving?! I pulled out my best stuff for you!” I had no idea that he’d been trying to get somewhere with his meaningless rambling.

Oh, you mean the uber-impressive story about having lunch with Alan Thick last week? Or telling me that your ex-girlfriend was a sexsomniac?

Or bragging about stealing wifi from your neighbor? Because it was all gold, so clearly I have no reason to leave with this depth of conversational wealth that’s being offered to me.

Sometimes, people just try too hard when what they really want is to impress. We can do the equivalent of Over-Sharing-Drunk-Viper-Room-Guy with food. We can try too hard, do too many things, and make a mess of it all.

Keep it simple this summer, some grilled produce, good ingredients, real butter and great beer.

And save the stories of your ex-girlfriend for your guy friends and only after they’re too drunk to object.

If there was any doubt about how much I like self-torture, you can defer to this: I’m writing another cookbook.

My first cookbook, The Craft Beer Cookbook took four months and most of my sanity to write. And here I am, doing it again. Maybe it’s the post publisher amnesia, maybe it’s that I had such a great time on the book tour, or maybe it’s that I like self inflicted torment.

Either way I’m nearing the half way point of writing my second cookbook. The topic this time is appetizers and party food. Craft beer lends itself to party food. The community of people that beer draws, and the flavors of the great beer that those craft beer people create just have to be shared. A book about food that’s at the center of a gathering of good beer and great people is therapeutic for me right now. It’s a reminder of the good parts of these lives we live, that the Quality of Life that we all strive for has more to do with who we share it with any other peripheral accessories that the world can offer.

A book about food that’s meant to be shared with people we love, I can’t think of anything I’d rather spend my time creating.

Heat the olive oil in a pot over medium heat. Cook the onions until soft. Stir in the garlic, then the porter, vinegar, molasses and dates.

Simmer until the dates have softened and broken down and the beer has reduced, about 10 minutes. Remove from heat and allow to cool for about ten minutes.

Add to a food processor and process until mostly smooth.

Preheat broiler. Cut the baguette into 24, 1-inch slices. Arrange bread slices on a baking sheet. Place under the broiler until golden brown. Flip the slices over and place back under the broiler until golden brown on the other side.

Spread each slice with porter date jam, top with crumbled goat cheese, prosciutto and arugula.

I’ve been told that a writer is no greater than the sum of their experiences.

Experiences, those I’ve got, more than most. More than I’ll ever admit to. But are the ones I’ve accumulated the right inlay for the foundation of the life I want? I was never anyones high school sweetheart, but I was the mysterious girl at an Italian hotel. I’m not sure I’ve been anyone’s best friend, but I was the girl drinking beer at Elton Johns birthday party. I’ve never made cookies with my grandmother but I did learn to make a noodle kugel from a 90-year-old Holocaust survivor. I’ve never been to Disney World, but I’ve taken a taxi ride to feed monkeys in Middle Atlas. I’ll never be the person who works at the same company for 20 years, but I have taught anger management skills to gang members in South Central Los Angeles.

Are these the experiences that I’ll be glad I’ve accumulated? Are they the right ones because they’re more rare? Am I missing out on the beauty of a more traditional life? I’m not sure.

But I know that I have a gypsy soul that likes to wander, and doesn’t gravitate towards convention.

Cream ales found their way into the American beer system during prohibition, an ironic time for many great alcoholic beverages to have gotten their start. The name is a bit misleading, cream isn’t involved in the brewing process, but the taste is smooth and even a bit creamy which is where the name comes from.

As we hurdle towards summer, and events which center around our tub of craft beer offerings, cream ales are a great style to include when trying to satisfy the masses. These are easy to drink beers that have low hop character, smooth crispy flavors and some hints of fruit.

I used a cream ale from the Pacific Northwest, from a brewery that has become a mainstay in my fridge since I moved north. Nuptiale from Ninkasi is a great beer to stock up on for those summer get togethers, it’s what I refer to as a Gateway Beer. Perfect for the craft beer snobs, and just what a craft beer newbie needs to get hooked.

For what seems like decades brewers have been involved in a bit of an ABV arms race to see who can bring to the table the IPA with highest alcohol content. The Top That ABV Game seems to be waining in favor of the Full Flavor Session IPA game, to the relief of lightweights across the land.

Now that summer is around the corner and long days of eating Hot Meat off the grill and drinking all day, session beers are more important. A session beer is a beer with low alcohol that you can spend a “long drinking session” consuming without becoming a cautionary tale. Mostly, these are beers that have less than 5% alcohol by volume (ABV).

Although a low ABV session beer becomes an important part of not becoming an unintended YouTube sensation with drunk antics, we also want to continue to perpetuate our status as the Craft Beer Queen, so “lite” beer won’t be considered. Session IPA’s are what we go to. The hops we want, the low alcohol that keeps us functional all day.

Here are some to seek out. This isn’t a “top ten”list, or a “best of” list. It’s just a list. A list of great session IPA’s to seek out when you want to drink all day without embarrassing yourself. If you have a session IPA you love, let me know.

In a food processor or blender add the apricots, IPA, sriracha, cornstarch, and balsamic, blend until smooth.

Salt and pepper the chicken thighs on all sides,.

Heat the olive oil in a skillet over medium high heat.

Sear the chicken breasts on both sides. Add the shallots, stir until shallots have softened.

Add the apricot mixture, reduce heat to a low simmer, simmer until sauce has thickened and chicken is cooked through, about 8 minutes.

Remove from heat, sprinkle with parsley.

Notes

This recipe needs fully ripe, sweet apricots. If you use under-ripe apricots, the dish will be overly sour. If you don't have over ripe (almost mushy) apricots, add 2 tbs honey to combat the bitterness.

I grew up on a farm, surrounded by cowboys and farms and it didn’t take long to notice how different their “job” was from those 9 to 5’s that other people had. There were no days off, and this had nothing to do with the fact that ranches and farms never shut down, it was because you can’t keep a cowboy away. Give him a day off and he’ll still be there, boots laced up at dawn, hat pulled on as he heads out the door, driving a truck through the fields.

Give a brewer a day off and his brain will still be there. He’ll write down notes about what he wants to brew next, try to solve the problems with his last batch, wonder how the fermentation is going on what he’s brewing now, briefly considering going in to check. You can’t take the brewery out of the brewer.

Maybe that’s what life is about. Finding a job you’d do on your off time, finding a way to earn a paycheck from your obsessions. Even if that paycheck is smaller than the one you get from that job that you can’t wait to leave when the clock hits 5:00. Maybe it just comes down to a quality of life issues. The best advice I got in grad school was “Never get paid to do a job that you wouldn’t do for free.”

Maybe it isn’t the doctors and CEO’s we should be jealous of, maybe it’s really the brewers and the cowboys that really have it all figured out.

One of my favorite summer beer styles, it’s crisp, fruity, nice carbonation and great spice. It’s prefect for those summer cookouts, it pairs well with everything from potato salad to ribs. Saisons is a style that was born out of a farm house in Belgium, and lets be honest nothing bad can ever start in a farmhouse in Belgium, it was made for consumption during the summer months. Maybe it’s just a coincidence that it also goes incredibly well with ice cream, or maybe the Belgian just knew what they were doing when they invented the perfect summer beer. It’s a great one to try if you’re new to craft beer, and after a near beer extinction, it’s back in a big way. Saisons are an easy style to find these days, and prefect for those of your friends that don’t think they like craft beer.

For this ice cream, I need an assertive saison, one that has bold flavors and good kick of spice. Of course, Stone never disappoints when you’re looking for a beer full of flavor and this Stone Saison was the perfect man for the job, the big flavors can stand up to sour cream and orange and hold their own. But I’m sure you’re not surprised, no one ever accused stone of being subtle.

Let’s just say that you want to dive into the world of craft beer. Or even that you’re curious enough that you just want to know bit more. Or maybe you’re just as much of a geek as I am and you just like to know stuff.

Let’s also assume that you’re starting with little more knowledge than knowing what IPA stands for and that Guinness is a stout. Or maybe less.

I was there once, we all were. No one is born with a head full of beer knowledge, and unlike other adult beverages, very few people were born into the world of beer. People are born into vineyards, or distilleries, but very few are born into breweries. Most of us start out knowing nothing, wondering what’s past the pale macro lager, dabbling in craft beer, and then wondering why it’s so much better than that stuff we chugged out of kegs in college. We seek out the knowledge, and most of us self educate. So, where do you start?

My picks for the best introduction to craft beer books, great for the beer novice, or even those who claim Beer Geek status:

Put all the crepe ingredients in a blender, blend until combined. Put the batter in the fridge for one hour and up to 12 (can be made the night before).

To make the apples melt the butter in a pan over medium heat. Add the apples, brown sugar, salt and cinnamon. Cook until the apples have softened. Add the beer and simmer until the liquid has thickened to a syrup, set aside.

In a 10 inch non-stick skillet melt 1 tablespoon butter.

Add about ¼ cup batter, swirl the pan to spread the batter into a thin circle.

Cook over medium high heat until the top is dry. Flip the crepe using a spatula, cook until the underside is golden brown. Continue until all batter is used.